


i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

by akhikosanada



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Dirty Talk, Edging, Lingerie, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Teasing, camboy au verse maybe idk, i hope you're happy, it just spun out of control, no beta we die like Glenn, this is the filthiest thing ive ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24136723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akhikosanada/pseuds/akhikosanada
Summary: "He’s taken his sweet time unravelling Felix like a string of fate; there’s a stain where the head peeks out on the pretty, lacy thong Felix wears, an expensive work of spun obsidian cutting against his pale skin and catching the drops of precum that trickle along his length, ones Sylvain rubs into the fabric to leave an indelible relic of his control. He doesn’t touch him more than strictly necessary, hasn’t touched him in earnest for a couple hours, probably, time an ambivalent notion compared to the month and a half they spent away from each other. Sylvain’s hands caress the edge of the garter of leather that seems to hold Felix’s tattooed dagger up on his thigh, one of those he’d bought as a gift before he left the country, as much an unspoken promise of celebration for his return than an implied selfishness."Written as an FE3H kinkmeme light prompt fill.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 183





	i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in a fever dream. i blinked and there it was, on my page. it's 2:30am

_Felix, Felix, Felix_ — the flutter of the first letter like a feather falling from his lips; the languished, anguished lyric that follows and flumes along the tapered tip of his silver tongue; the ending _x_ expired to shatter on the spire of his spine the way one inscribes the precise place of a sepulture on a treasure map.

It probably defeats the point — he’s the one supposed to sigh Sylvain’s syllables, but Sylvain aspires to let the purr of Felix’s name grazed in goosebumps over his neck be the thing that does it.

_Sylv—_ , Felix tries to trill in kind, the name evanescing into the aggravated growl of greed and hunger Sylvain knows him for, that prelude to surrender Sylvain has learnt the definition to along their months together; it’s too rough still, the tone too turbulent, and Sylvain usually loves it, reads its softness in subtitles and the feeling of Felix’s fingers — but it’s him who touches Felix in this very moment, it’s him who trails will-o’-wisps of touch along the hard shape of his cock through the thin lace that conceals it, it’s him who dips the edge of his nails into the smooth skin of his inner thighs and not-so-accidentally brushes the tip of his dick in slow waves against the dimples of his loins.

He’s taken his sweet time unravelling Felix like a string of fate; there’s a stain where the head peeks out on the pretty, lacy thong Felix wears, an expensive work of spun obsidian cutting against his pale skin and catching the drops of precum that trickle along his length, ones Sylvain rubs into the fabric to leave an indelible relic of his control. He doesn’t touch him more than strictly necessary, hasn’t touched him in earnest for a couple hours, probably, time an ambivalent notion compared to the month and a half they spent away from each other. Sylvain’s hands caress the edge of the garter of leather that seems to hold Felix’s tattooed dagger up on his thigh, one of those he’d bought as a gift before he left the country, as much an unspoken promise of celebration for his return than an implied selfishness.

Sylvain snaps the garter against his leg, and Felix’s cock jumps almost completely out of the lingerie.

“Stop teasing,” Felix says, and there’s a weakness to the combativity in his voice, overheated glass on the edge of breaking.

Sylvain breathes hot against the nape of Felix’s neck, laughter untangling the smallest strands of hair from the messy bun they’re in. “So impolite. Be good. Say please.” The tip of his finger is just shy of grazing the frenulum as it brushes back up, and Felix tries to buck forward for a little more friction; Sylvain’s hands splay wide across the expanse of his thighs as he keeps Felix seated between his legs. He’s wearing the dotted swiss stockings that Felix adores, the ones that make Felix fuck him hard and fast into their mattress, and when he drags his own foot up to press the heel against Felix’s cock Felix falls back into him like he’s quicksand.

“If you won’t be good,” Sylvain nips into Felix’s carotid to better feel the moan that shatters out of him, “you’ll just have to be quiet,” and he feeds two fingers into Felix’s mouth.

Felix sucks on them like he sucks Sylvain off, all delicate edges of white teeth and plush pressures of tongue. Sylvain’s foot presses harder, until his stockings are in the same state as Felix’s thong, sin-stained. “Much better”, Sylvain says as he spreads his legs out again, lets the head of his own cock slip along the cleft of Felix’s ass, the strip of lace rubbing against the skin just the right side of burning. “Isn’t it, angel? Isn’t it better when you just let yourself go?”

Felix’s answer is to half-bite into Sylvain’s knuckles. Sylvain just laughs again.

“Just— fuck me already,” Felix snaps when Sylvain’s fingers slide out and trace spit down between Felix’s thighs again; Sylvain purposely misses Felix’s dick to brush against his balls, to fan electricity along the rim of Felix’s hole—

“Had fun without me?” Felix is warm and inviting and _wet_ , _so fucking wet_ , under his fingertips, his hole already swollen and loose. “You couldn’t wait, could you,” Sylvain whispers into the crook of Felix’s shoulder as he strokes featherlight circles against him, “couldn’t wait to have me fill you up, right? Did you miss my cock that much? I bet you fingered yourself _every_ night—” a whimper as Felix pushes to sink onto Sylvain’s knuckle and Sylvain’s hand dances away — “but it wasn’t enough, was it? The only thing that’s enough for you is my cock now, right? Not your fingers, not your toys… not even my tongue,” he laughs as Felix tries to kiss the filth away from his mouth, squirms in Sylvain’s lap until Sylvain’s dick is nestled right beneath his balls, the head resting perfectly against his rim.

“Just _this_ , right?” Sylvain finishes, punctuates his sentence with a light thrust of his hips until Felix’s hole tries to suck the tip in.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Felix swears; he tries to sink down onto Sylvain’s length, and he’s strong, but Sylvain’s stronger, when he wants to be. Sylvain’s hands hold him up by the thighs, his fingers slipping beneath the garters like with reins, guiding Felix’s ass up and down and up over the head as he teases him open. _Look how eager you are for me_ , Sylvain smooths affection into Felix’s skin when he kisses his shoulder, _just for me, I can give it to you, my love, I can give you exactly what you want, you just gotta say it_ , reaching to snap the leather against Felix’s thigh to make him sink a little deeper onto his cock, but not enough, still not enough, _say it, Fe, what do you want?_

“You,” Felix finally sobs, his voice a wrecked tenor like a siren’s dirge, “your cock—”

Sylvain kisses away what drips along Felix’s cheek. He doesn’t know if it’s his sweat or his tears. “Good kitten. What do you want me to do to you?”

Torture— the purest, simplest kind, to be drunk on Felix’s words this way, to thrust so shallowly into him when he knows exactly how lock-and-key perfect he fits inside Felix’s body, to let his finger pull down the fabric of his thong, but then Felix starts chanting, like an hymn, like a prayer, _fuck me hard, feed me your cock, give it to me, fill me up, please, Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain_ —

Torture again, to push Felix away and flip him like a ragdoll, to look at tear-stained cheeks and heat-hazed eyes when Felix lies stunned on his back, to push just the strip of lace away from his hole, all soothed by the broken moan that leaves Felix’s lips when Sylvain sinks into him.

_Yes, yes, yes_ , Felix sings to the pace of Sylvain’s thrusts as he crosses his legs behind Sylvain’s shoulders, and Sylvain can’t help the words of love he pours right along Felix’s tongue, _so good, so fucking good, so perfect for me, my heart_ , tasting the exact music notes of Felix’s laughter when he answers, arythmic and half-hushed, _God, fuck, your cock, perfect fit, made for me_ , until the only words Sylvain recognizes are _yes_ and _there_ and _yes_. Sylvain bites praises and proofs of possession along Felix’s neck, watches his own cock disappear inside Felix’s hole as Felix’s dick leaks under the midnight lace of his thong each time he thrusts where Felix needs it most, and Felix guides Sylvain’s hand to stroke him through the fabric with whines of _touch me_ and _so close_ and _make me come_ — _What do you want_ , Sylvain asks, one last time, and when Felix digs his heels into his shoulders and ruins his lingerie and begs him for his cum, _inside, fill me up, pump me full of your seed, pleasepleaseplease_ , Sylvain stutters over the edge and falls and falls and falls.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this filthy thing!!! I hope you still enjoyed it even if it's not much and it's just pure smut :(


End file.
